When the Ordinary Becomes Sacred

I’d like to tell you the story of a pink balloon that has become immeasurably precious, almost sacred, to me. And how a simple balloon can be an unexpected reminder of what is most important.

It wasn’t very long ago that this balloon was just a balloon. One of the decorations for our Kids’ Spring Party at church. An ordinary balloon in a package with other balloons, a variety of colors and sizes, all needing someone to blow them up.

It was a Saturday in April, the day before Palm Sunday. Our church wanted to do an outreach for neighborhood kids, to tell them about Jesus. A few of the older grandchildren of several of our church members had agreed to be helpers that day. On the day of the party we all arrived early and were busily decorating – stringing ceiling lights, taping balloons and spring flowers to the walls, preparing crafts and hiding Easter eggs. With the sparkly lights and the tree and the bobbing colorful balloons our little church was looking festive!

We had such a fun time that day. The party was a success! The children went home with candy and prizes. We thanked our volunteers and made sure they had some candy and prizes to take home too.

The following Thursday I wrote in my journal,

“Birds and flowers, trees and skies are hints of Your glory and goodness. Nearness to You is a foretaste of the essence of Heaven.
I hope in You, Lord–
Thank You for the hope of Heaven.
My hope and trust is in You.”

On Sunday we celebrated a beautiful Resurrection Day at church. Worshipping, sharing breakfast together. Thanking God for Salvation. Resurrection. New Life. My husband and I spent time with  our daughter and son-in-law and the grandchildren that afternoon. After dinner we went around the table and asked the kids what they learned in church that day. The kids were teasing each other. We shared love and laughter together.

As we drove home that evening my husband and I agreed that this was a beautiful Easter.

We had no idea what would happen the next day…

Kids having fun. ATV tips in the field. The unthinkable happens. Our 13 year old grandaughter Elisia was suddenly gone, taken to Heaven to be with Jesus.

Shock. Sadness. Grief. Time seemed to stop.

We laid her body to rest on a cloudy, blustery Wednesday, when a sunbeam broke through the clouds and fell upon her grave. Though we know she is safe in Heaven and we will see her again we miss her. She is simply not here with us.

*******************

A few weeks later while doing some errands I stopped in at the church and decided to do a little cleaning and take down some of the decorations. As I prepared to pop the balloons, scissors in hand, I froze. I realized I could not destroy these balloons. I began to cry.

I searched my phone and found the picture I had taken on party day. The one of the kids blowing up balloons. Elisia was blowing up a pink one.

I held the pink one close.

My granddaughter’s breath was captured in that balloon. I was holding her life-breath in my hands. That was a sacred moment for me. I cried and thanked God for the gift of Elisia. And the gift of that moment of time.

Life is different since the accident. Some things that used to be important don’t matter anymore. Other things are so much more important.
And there are other sacred things in my life that used to be ordinary….
butterflies, a pile of leaves raked by the grandchildren last fall, an elastic bracelet made by Elisia and her friend (and sold to me for a quarter!), a pot of pansies from the Kids Party that day, a lollipop treat jar on top of my fridge, a patch of muddy grass in a certain field, where Jesus and the angels came to bring Elisia Home.

My list of sacred gifts is growing. These things are sacred because of precious memories I hold dear to my heart. But also because these memories and tangible things are gifts from my Father, to show how He loves me.
I still don’t understand why this happened.  But God doesn’t owe me any explanations. I’m not sure they would be any comfort to me. Instead, He shows me His love. He weeps with me. He is moved with compassion toward His hurting children.

“In the midst of suffering, no one needs clarifying arguments as much as they need to feel arms close. So He gives an experience of Himself instead of mere explanations, because He knows explanations can be cold comfort and His arms are warm.”                       –Ann Voskamp, The Broken Way

This one life of ours is numbered by days, each one a gift, each one composed of moments. Every single moment is sacred. I don’t want to rush past any one.

God is in this moment. And this moment. And this one. And this.
He is the I AM. Not the I WAS or the I WILL BE. This present moment is an opportunity for me to thank God, know His love, and love Him back.

In the words of an old favorite song, “We have this moment, TODAY.” So I am learning to go slow. To take time to count the gifts with gratitude. To pause often to smell the lilacs and pet the cat, take deep breaths and thank Him.

I want to be fully present as I give thanks and receive, with open hands, the present of this moment, today. ❤️